


Familia Rubiaceae (or, Five Times Jack Harkness Met Susan Ivanova)

by Leyenn



Category: Babylon 5, Doctor Who
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-18
Updated: 2009-11-18
Packaged: 2017-10-03 07:43:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee, the universal socialisation tool.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Familia Rubiaceae (or, Five Times Jack Harkness Met Susan Ivanova)

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place in an AU post-_Deconstruction Of Falling Stars_ and post-_Last Of The Time Lords_.

"It's amazing the things we can build these days," says the man in the seat next to him. The screen on the back of the seat in front of him shows their approach to the space station. He's glad he doesn't get spacesick as the view slowly rotates to line them up for docking.

He smiles gamely. "Amazing," he says.

He's never set foot on Babylon 5 before, and he can't help but be a little impressed. Built for next to nothing with next to no materials and not even really finished - although you wouldn't know to see it, at least from the outside - and yet it's still the biggest, busiest hub of alien traffic he's seen since his Agency days.

"Welcome to Babylon Five," the guard says when he gets to the gate, obviously by rote. He holds his breath for half a moment as his identicard gets run through the scanner and then he's passed, with just a "have a nice stay, sir," as he walks on in.

The first time he sees her, she's a pretty face sitting across from him at a bar in the station's famous Casino, nursing a pale looking drink that he suspects isn't water. Her hair is long, that burnished chestnut colour, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't slide round to her side of the bar just because he liked the look in her eyes.

"Captain Jack Harkness," he says, by way of introduction and greeting, since he's usually found it smoother to get both out of the way at once.

She turns her head: evidently realises he's talking to her, and raises an eyebrow. He gets the feeling she's amused. "'Captain'?"

"An affectation," he says quickly. He neglects to mention that the rest of the name is, too. "And you are...?"

"Captain Susan Ivanova."

The way she says it has a sort of authority he's not heard in a while. It's the sort he was brought up to respect, and he thinks he wouldn't have much of a problem doing that. "Not an affectation," he says. She gifts him a dry smirk.

"No." She raises the glass to her lips and looks at him speculatively, as if she's weighing him up. She probably is.

There's a long moment of silence when he thinks she's decided not to talk to him, and then she puts the glass down and folds her arms in front of her. "So, Captain, what are you doing on my station?"

He breaks into a grin. "Your station."

"Last time I looked."

"And when was that?"

"Right before you sat down."

This could get interesting. "Have dinner with me," he says. She smiles and shakes her head.

"Look, Captain Harkness, or whatever your name is-"

"Jack," he suggests easily.

"Jack," she says, just as easily. "I won't say I'm not flattered, but I'm really not interested."

"I didn't ask if you were interested. I asked you to have dinner with me."

"I don't have dinner with strange men I've only just met."

He grins broadly. "Well, I've known me for a long time, and I promise you I'm stranger than I seem."

She laughs then, and the sound makes his spine tingle in very good ways. "I suppose you don't plan to go away if I don't say yes?"

"If you want me to," he says.

There's a mischief in her eyes that he almost recognises, and she answers like she's taking on a bet. "All right, then. Fresh Aire, tomorrow night at eight."

"I only just got here," he says. "I've got no idea where that is."

"Then you should probably find out," she says, and calls for the check.

Jack grins. He was right: this is definitely going to be an interesting place to be.

Fresh Aire at eight and she's a stunning flash of blue that catches his eye across the crowded restaurant - she hasn't seen him yet, so he's left to admire the sight as she speaks briefly to the maître d'. She's dressed in a sparkling ankle-length, cobalt blue dress that leaves her shoulders bare, with a halter neck that's doing something particularly impressive with her cleavage. She's wearing her hair down in tight curls, framing her face as she turns her head and catches sight of him.

Jack grins and waves. She raises an eyebrow and walks over, and he stands up as she approaches.

"Good evening, Captain."

Ivanova smiles. "You managed to get a table. I'm impressed."

"I'm very impressive," he says, grinning. She gives him a look as she sits down that quite plainly says she believes it, and not in the way he'd like.

He lets her order for them both, and it's his turn to be impressed at how easily she gets her rather luscious mouth around some of the more exotic alien names. Jack Harkness prides himself on being something of a connoisseur of alien cuisine - and aliens - but there are dishes on the menu even he's never heard of. Most of it tastes delicious, though - he is a little dubious about the Drazi _jhukk_, which she claims has no translation and tastes suspiciously like old leather until he coats it in _nafkk_ sauce, but he's always willing to eat an unpalatable course or two in exchange for the smile of a beautiful woman.

Actually the worst course turns out to be the after-dinner coffee, by which time they've talked about nothing for hours and most of the restaurant is empty. Ivanova has a disgusted look on her face when he orders an americano, but he figures nothing can be as bad as the _jhukk_, right?

Wrong.

"This is not coffee," he says, staring at the cup in consternation. Ivanova shrugs.

"I warned you." She watches him take another tentative sip and chuckles. "I'll tell you a secret," she says. "I used to grow coffee out here, before the war. A little perk from my predecessor." She sighs wistfully. "We needed the hydroponics space during the embargo, though. You wouldn't believe how hard it is to find coffee plants that will grow in hydroponic soil."

He can believe it. He heard a lot about what went on out here during the civil war, and quite a lot more about things that went on before that, things he's not going to mention because he's got a fair idea she'd be able to tell him more than he wants or needs to know. He got out of that business a long time back, and he's not quite ready to get back to it just yet.

She must notice it, because she clears her throat and pushes his psuedo-coffee across the table. "Check," she says, and a waiter appears out of nowhere. She flips him her identicard before Jack can protest; when he does, she shrugs it off. He lays a hand on her elbow.

"Well then, the least you can let me do is walk you home."

"This is my station," she says. She sounds amused at his gallantry. "I can find my way."

"I can't," he says, making sure his eyes sparkle suggestively when he says it. She smiles and shakes her head, but she lets him walk her anyway.

"You want to come in," she says, when they're standing at her open door, and it's not a question or in fact a request.

"You want me to come in," he says, daring her to say different. She shakes her head, although she's very nearly smiling.

"Goodnight. _Captain_."

He takes her hand and kisses it gallantly instead of a reply. Her smile twitches into something more amused, and then she pulls her hand back and the door slides shut between them.

He gets lost and accosted by station security on his way back, but it's completely worth it.

Two days later he spots her in a corridor just outside Blue Sector, managing to yell without even raising her voice at a young man in an Earthforce uniform who looks very much like he wants to sink through the deck and if at all possible, into the vacuum outside.

He tries not to grin too much. He tries, too, not to remember how many times he used that same voice on Owen or Gwen or Tosh, or the others that came after them.

She spots him in mid-rant, and he can't help but be impressed with how she doesn't even break rhythm even when her gaze makes contact with his and he flashes her a grin. Afterwards, when the unfortunate young officer has long since limped off with his injured pride and ear drums in tow, she even nods his way. He tosses her a flippant salute, and he definitely spots a smile before she turns away again.

It's late, the next time he meets her, and he really doesn't intend to. He's taking the tram, the monorail that runs along the entire length of the station, and it's the early hours of the morning. He's the last one in the carriage until it pulls to a stop and she gets on, still in uniform, looking about as exhausted as anyone can look and not be dead. Which is something Jack has a fair amount of experience in.

"Someone had a bad day," he says lightly. She starts as if she hasn't noticed him. He grins up at her. "Hi there."

There are twenty-nine empty seats. She takes the one beside his.

"I suppose you think I should talk about it," she says after a while.

He knows that tone: he's used it enough himself, and he knows that when it comes to that, talking doesn't make a damned bit of difference.

"I think," he says, leaning in close, "you shouldn't talk at all."

She turns to look at him with a definite look of surprise and something like relief. He reaches up and brushes his fingers through her hair; she doesn't move and he leans closer until he can taste her breath on his lips, coming soft and fast, even more tempting than before. Her eyes are dark and watching him as he tips his head, cups her face in his hand and captures her mouth with his.

Susan's kiss is sensuous and hungry, like a sudden rush of adrenaline, and she presses up against him with a quiet hum of release. He leans back, draws her in close, parts her lips with his tongue; she runs her fingertips down the nape of his neck, and this time just before she pulls away, he feels tenderness in her touch.

Her hands drop to his shoulders; her lips are wet and softly parted, just inches from his, and she's looking at him steadily but tiredly as she sighs.

"I'm sorry," she says, so low he can barely hear it. "I can't. I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything, because he can tell by just her voice that there's nothing to be said. Instead he puts his arms around her and presses her head down onto his shoulder; and she lets him, and he's privately surprised by how long she lets them stay sitting that way without a word.

When the train next pulls to a halt she pushes him away and gets up, even though he's fairly sure this can't be her stop. She's at the doors before she turns back to look at him, and there's a kind of pain in her eyes that makes him realise why he ever picked her out of the crowd in the first place.

"There was someone... a long time ago," she says.

He smiles sadly. "For me, too."

The doors close a moment later, and through the window he watches her walk away.

The very last time, she's waiting in the docking bay as he passes through on his way to catch his shuttle home. He's never sure afterwards if she was really waiting for him or there by pure coincidence, but he has his suspicions.

"Look me up if you're ever back out this way," she says, and holds out a hand. He shakes it firmly and grins.

"Don't make yourself too hard to find."

Susan smiles. "I have a feeling you'd find me however hard I made it, Captain."

He sends the parcel the day after he arrives back on Earth: addressed priority interstellar mail to Babylon 5, for the personal attention of Captain Susan Ivanova. Inside is a carefully sealed hydroponic container, vacuum-safe, with a quick handwritten note stuck to the inside -

_Take good care of them, you wouldn't believe how hard they were to find._

  


*


End file.
